


Too Much to Bear

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-08 00:54:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4284462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Shoot prompt: Shaw knows that she cares for Root more than anyone, and knows that most likely she's in love with Root. But she is still confused by all the emotions that she is feeling, and she needs to talk about all her feelings she has for Root, from the annoying parts to the things Root does that make her smile, with the only one that won't tease her for it: Bear. And after her one-sided talk with Bear, she gets the courage to, when Root walks in, tell her she loves her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much to Bear

"Hey, Sweetie." Shaw spins back on her heel, eyes searching through the crowd of New York city pedestrians. Briefly, she catches a few strands of wavy brown hair and the corner of a sly smile as she weaves behind a wave of people. Shaw cranes her neck the other way, searching.

"Miss me?" That same playful voice says, this time right next to her ear. Shaw's head swivels back around just as a tall figure slips forward, almost out of sight. Shaw keeps an eye on the top of the woman's head as she bobs in and out of the throng. Shaw can feel a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips, and she eases her way quickly forward, coming to a minute jog.

" _Miss_  you?" Shaw calls out with the hint of a laugh in her voice. "Yeah, I missed you like I'd miss an intestinal  _parasite_." There is a break in the crowd just as the woman flashes a breathtaking smile over her shoulder, hair fanning out around her face and shoulders. Shaw can feel her heart hum a little faster in her chest, at the sight; however, as soon as she came, she was gone. The gap closes and she is no where.

Shaw's small smile falls, and she begins to pick through the people once more.  _Where is she; where..._

There.

* * *

 

A flash of brunette hair turned bronze as it catches the sun slips into a cubby hole between two city stores. Clenching her teeth and steeling her nerves, Shaw edges her way through the crowd, ducking into the gap as well. Before she has time to blink- to breathe- she feels hands on her shoulders and her back to a cold wall. There is a familiar scent mixed in with mint toothpaste hitting her warmly across the nose and cheek. She opens her eyes, only to find two onyx ones eclipsing anything else in view. Shaw's breath catches, mind running blank. She can see the edges of a smile climbing up to greet the eyes, and brown hair falls down, partially obscuring the right. Slowly, slowly, Shaw's thoughts resurface, and she isn't sure whether or not a blank mind was better.

She can hear two sets of slightly ragged breath, and can feel her heart ripping out of her rib cage. Forcing control over herself, she brings a masterful snarl to her lips, eyes narrowing dangerously.

" _Root_ ," Shaw says in a warning tone. "Let go of me." She can see the provocative spark in Root's eyes, and scolds herself instantly for the tightness gripping her throat. A smirk appears wickedly on Root's face, and Shaw can feel an amused puff of air hit her own. The rush of mint and of Root is intoxicating, and Shaw feels her head begin to swim. Through the fog, Shaw can hear Root's humored, breathy reply.

"Sure thing." It's a whisper, but the sound floods Shaw's ears with their close proximity. "Right after you."

_What?_  Shaw thinks, the question forming sluggishly. Then, she notices something against her hands. Her fingers trail against something like leather, nails dug in as her arms pull back close to her sides. Shaw tears her eyes away from Root, letting them flicker down for a fraction of a second. She can see the black of Root's leather jacket at the edges of her sight, and her cheeks instantly flush. Heat pushes its way through her face and her ears, and she yanks her hands away, pressing herself even farther to the wall.

With one last smile, Root pulls back, and the space surrounding where she was immediately turns cold around Shaw. However, with the chill there comes a clarity to Shaw's thoughts. Kind of.

"Harold needs you at the station," Root says, a flare of mystery in her tone. Shaw's muscles begin to relax, and she leans casually against the wall.

"What for?" She asks, irritation in her words. She can still feel the blush lingering on her cheeks, and wants nothing more than to smack it away. Judging by the way Root tries to conceal a smile, Shaw knows she's not the only one who can tell.

"He was in a hurry," Root replies, looking down at her nails, a lack of interest in her tone. She peers up, a purse to her lips. "But there should be a note waiting for you."

"And where are  _you_  gonna be?" Shaw asks, instantly regretting it. She sees the glint in Root's eyes, and wants to bury herself in the ground- far out of reach of Root's gaze. "Nevermind," Shaw grumbles, rolling off of the wall towards the crowded street. A hand comes to her shoulder, and a mouth deadly close to her ear.

"I have a... prior engagement," Root responds, the play gone in her voice. The more Shaw thinks about it, the more sheepish, secretive it sounds. Part of Shaw becomes rubbed the wrong way. Wondering what it is, wondering why she can't know. She almost asks, but the hand on her shoulder feels like fire, and she has the pressing need to get it off.

Shaw becomes flustered with the red coming back to her face so soon, and clamps her hand over Root's; iron grip set on ripping it off. She can feel Root's fingers slowly peeling away, and- based on the sharp intake of breath from Root- knows her nails are biting hard into Root's skin.

Once Root's hand is off, Shaw drops it. Without looking back, Shaw slips off into the crowd, trying to get lost in the sound. But she can't.

_What is it with her?_  Shaw fumes to herself, near the point of bursting. She'd seemed more and more on edge with each passing encounter with Root, and with how often they see each other, she was tip toeing a very fine line. It only grew worse when Shaw made a harrowing discovery:  _Feelings. I have them._

Contrary to popular belief, this fact surprised her greatly, especially do to the fact that they all surrounded Root. It feels as if she has an emotion for every letter of the alphabet, and it comes together like a messy soup in her head.

_I just... I need to get this out before it does any more damage_ , she says to herself, head down and ears steaming.  _But how?_

______\ If Your Number's Up /______

"Miss. Shaw, if you could please tend to Bear following the instructions below. I'm afraid- due to a teaching convention- I will be away the next two days. I trust that you can care for him until my return. Everything you will need is in the subway car. Sincerely, Harold Finch."

Shaw folds the paper and places it back atop the computer desk. Looking around, she scans for Bear. She hears a noise from inside the car, and takes a silent step in. There, beside one of the chairs, Bear stands with his head in a food bag, munching away. Letting a smile escape her lips, Shaw leans against the subway door, which gives an aged creak.

Bear's head shoots up at the noise, and- upon seeing Shaw- his tail begins to wag. Shaw pats her leg, and he gallops forward, tongue exposed as he leans his muzzle against her leg.

"I see you've helped yourself to breakfast," Shaw comments, eyeing up the shredded kibble bag. Walking over, she pulls out his food tray, filling one bowl up with water before setting it out on the terminal. Then, she walks back to the note to read the instructions. Walk at nine, twelve, three, six, and eight; no water after his last walk; 4-6 cups of food a day.

"Well, he already broke that quota," Shaw mumbles to herself, stowing it in her pocket. Looking around, she realizes just how empty the space is. "Guess it's just you and me, Handsome," she says, rubbing Bear between the ears. Then, she stops. Checks the clock.

_John isn't getting off work for a couple of hours..._ A revelation forms in Shaw's head, and she thinks it over.  _Genius_. The only one of her group guaranteed not to badger her over anything she says, but still has an open ear. Straightening up, she walks towards Bear's blanket, and he follows loyally. At seeing Shaw's final destination, he prances to the bedding, circles, then plops down, helping himself to a toy.

"Hey, Bear?" Shaw says, and he looks up at her with expectant eyes. Crossing her legs, she brings herself gracefully to a seated position on the floor, patting the top of his head while doing so. "Let's have a talk."

_______\ We'll Find You /______

"So, you know Root, don't you, bud?" Shaw asks, starting off on her conversation. Bear cocks his head to the side at her before resting it between his paws. She strokes his fur with a straight face and a lot on her mind. "Yeah, of course you do." She ponders upon how she wants to start this, where to begin even, and decides that it doesn't really matter.

"I'm having a bit of a problem," she confesses, and Bear directs his gaze her way. "With Root. Well, not  _with_  her, but  _involving_  her." A short, disbelieving laugh leaves her. "Our relationship is kinda complicated. Some days, I think we could be the closest thing to enemies. Others, anyone walking past us on the street would swear we're an amiably bantering, psychotic and idiotic  _married_  couple." As the words leave her mouth, Shaw realizes just how true they are. How insanely close they can be. Many days could start like this one, playing around and staying hidden, while others- before Shaw could even get an ounce of morning coffee into her veins- Root would find her, latch onto her hand, and drag her off for any number of reasons. From gunmen to numbers to just plain impulse. Shaw found Root stumping and unpredictable in every sense, and that only added to her fluster. "And even more days are just in between the two. She drives me absolutely crazy, you know.

"And, to tell you the truth, I'm not sure where it all began. I just know it wasn't there until it was. I'm such an  _idiot_ ," she says in a scolding tone. "I should have seen it coming. But, I've never really gone through this before and- hey- how  _could_  I have known?" She shakes her head. "That's besides the point. The point is that I'm not sure how I feel about her; not quite.

"Kind of annoyed," Shaw admits, laying back on the tiled floor, her head resting alongside Bear's. She looks up at the high ceiling and traces the grout of the tiles like a maze. "Irritated. Angry. She brings out these things in me that I don't have words for. It's frustrating. Like how she just pops out of no where with her  _'hey Sweetie'_ s and her smiles. It's  _ridiculous_. When did that even start, and who ever gave her permission?" Shaw stops, hearing how hot headed and full of indignation her words are coming out. Taking a calming breath, she lets it out in a slow, hissing sigh. "I guess I did. I never told her  _not_  to. She's the only one who calls me anything other than Shaw- except  _maybe_  Harold some times- and I kind of like it that way. I'm not sure why.

"Anyway, she has this way about her. This- this- this I don't  _know_ , air that just screams with suggestiveness and- it's provocative, okay? I said it." She closes her eyes a moment, needing to breathe. "But I'm not sure if it's all in my head or not. To me, it feels like it's out there, but then if John talks to her it doesn't sound that way. I'm not sure if it's only with me or it's in my head or..." She trails off, opening her eyes and casting her gaze Bear's way. "I guess I'm worried it's a 'girl thing,' you know? Something she does just playing around. And that pisses me off, too. Knowing that  _all_  of it could be fake at the snap of her fingers.  _Poof_. A joke. And here  _I_  am going on and on about it, unable to get it all out of my  _head_. It's like there's a broken record in there or something." Bear gives a soft whine, and Shaw nods. "I know, it's rough."

Shaw continues to run her fingers through Bear's hair, although her eyes become fuzzy as her mind travels galaxies away. "It's not  _all_  bad though," she whispers.

"She can get a smile out of me, that's for sure. Sometimes out of pure disbelief, mind you, but still. There are times when she's just looked at me. All she's had to do is look at me and I smile. It's  _weak_." She feels like spitting at the words, but can't bring herself to. "When  _she_  smiles, she's strong, and I haven't quite figured out how that works yet." Shaw can envision Root in her mind, smiling or smirking Shaw's way, hitting her with an innuendo, or tossing her hair casually over one shoulder. "It seems like a little kid thing," she says to Bear slowly. "To daydream about someone.

"I won't lie to you," she says to him, eyes distant still. "I'm confused by it all. How do you explain such a thing? How do you explain just, just  _finding_  emotions? Having them muted for so long, just to be cranked at full blast? And more so, to keep them under control? Because, believe me, I don't need anyone  _else_  hearing them." She stays quiet a minute, getting lost in her mind.

"How can one person bring about so many things? I've been angry, sure, I can do anger. But how do you describe this feeling of butterflies.  _Butterflies_! Me, of all people? I'd rather take bullets to the stomach than god damn  _butterflies_. And she makes me flustered; but that might just be because I can't say these things to her. I can say them to  _you_ , but not her." Shaw thinks a moment more; however, she doesn't need much time, for the thoughts are overflowing like a cup under a running faucet

"I get pretty jealous- that's a new one. Usually I could care less about other people, but if she goes and confides in other people I just- I lose it. I get hot headed and indignant. And maybe that goes hand in hand with being protective. You know how that is. I feel like protecting her a lot, and from basically everything. I know, I know:  _danger is our job description_. But that doesn't mean I can't be protective.

"I've never been scared of anything. I've never had any fears, and I've never feared for others. But for some reason Root can make me worry like you wouldn't believe. Whenever she's out and about alone, getting shot at- fear. I  _hate_  that feeling; I don't know how anyone can stand it. I only seem to really have one fear myself, and that's whatever the Hell  _this_  mess is. I'm working on it though," Shaw adds with a pat to Bear's back. "I never really,  _truly_ , get sad, but you know, I feel for that whole gray skies thing. I think you have that whenever someone, like Harold, has to leave for some time."

At the mention of Harold's name, Bear let's out a low whimper, nuzzling Shaw with saddened eyes. "I know," Shaw says with a sigh. "You miss him. That's what happens to me when Root goes off the radar. She doesn't much anymore, but back when we all had to split up? Well, I had a case of the gray skies. Even though the first time I saw her again I was pissy over the day job, I was... happy to see her again." Shaw lets out a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair, disheveling it entirely.

" _That's_  the last order of business. It sounds stupid- trust me, I try to think the thought as little as possible but- she makes me  _happy_. And I don't get it. Sure, I've been satisfied and pleased before. I've felt accomplished. And, because I never felt sad, who isn't to say I wasn't happy all the time? Back when all the volume dials were turned all the way down. It makes me angry, how after all my years being just fine,  _she_  comes around and  _screws_  it all  _up_.

"But... I can't say I'd enjoy things more if she hadn't. I feel like happiness- it's sort of a drug. You get your first moment of it, and it intrigues you. It's an alien thing, and curiosity takes you over." Shaw thinks, to herself, that curiosity is yet another emotion Root brings up in her, but decides quickly that that is a talk she does  _not_  want to have with Bear.  _Those are thoughts I can keep to myself._  She gives a cough, then continues. "It takes you over, and so you impulsively have to have another go-round. And then, you're hooked. It just gives you this feeling that feels better than anything else. But, when you don't have it, everything has a cold touch to it that slowly freezes you to the core. You can't stand it; you'll do  _anything_  to have the feeling back." Shaw thinks to the times she's shared with Root, the smiles she's- against her will- flashed Root's way. "It's probably costed me a few mistakes and embarrassments, but that's love for ya."

Shaw sits bolt upright, all the air feeling as if it's been sucked from her lungs. Her eyes swell in their sockets and her throat closes completely. Her stomach tosses to her ribcage just as her heart drops to the floor. Goosebumps wrack her body, and a feeling she has no words for holds her in a tight grip.

Bear, sensing this sudden change in his companion, leaps to his feet defensively, standing in between Shaw's legs, as if to shield her from an invisible perpetrator. Shaw grabs a handful of his long hair, and buries her face into his flank with an agonized groan.

A few muffled swears and exclamations of antipathy to every planet, god, and constellation she can think of, Shaw flops back onto the ground with a cloak of despair drifting over her shoulders.

"Is  _that_  what this is?" She asks aloud. "Because it  _sucks_."

______\ Too Much to Bear /_______

Shaw wakes up with a bitter taste in her mouth and a weight on her chest.

Licking her lips, she thinks back to the dream she'd just emerged from. It was a hodge podge of things, all revolving around Root. It started with them running- Root away from gunmen and Shaw towards Root. She was calling for her, but Root didn't seem to hear. The faster Shaw ran made no difference, for every step only seemed to separate them further, letting the gunmen descend. They shot Root until she was down, and only a cloud of dust remained. Shaw can feel her heart picking up even now at the memory.

Finally, when she'd made it to the spot, Root was gone. And instead of dirt, Shaw was standing on a wooden floor with the clinking of glasses and talking all around her. She could hear Root's voice, but not make out any words. Searching, Shaw found her sitting at a bar, talking to someone whose face Shaw could not make out. However, that didn't stop Shaw from feeling a swelling tidal wave of jealousy at seeing the way Root was acting. How far she leans into them, and the crinckle of her nose as she says something clever. And her laugh as the other person says something back. Shaw can feel her jaw set, nails cutting into the heels of her hands as she recounts the dream.

But then, Root saw her. She stood up from the bar stool, walking towards Shaw without ever breaking eye contact, and the rest of the bar scene slowly faded away. However, to Shaw's alarm, it literally disappeared, leaving the two of them alone in a space she couldn’t quite place.

'Hey, Sweetie,' the familiar pet name flooded Shaw's system, filling her to the brim with brightens, and Root's smile spilled her over. She stopped mere centimeters before Shaw, looking her over with those eyes that just made Shaw want to punch her. Or kiss her. Or both. And suddenly, that was all Shaw could think about. She just wanted to reach out, let her fingers run across Root's cheek or get them tangled in her hair or let them trail down Root's back and to draw her in and she almost did all of these things when-

She woke up. With a bitter taste in her mouth and a weight on her chest. And now, as she comes to her senses, Shaw realizes the weight is a living thing.

_Bear_. He's curled up in a ball on top of her, front paws hanging off her shoulders and his head a dead weight on her collar bone. She brings a hand to his head and strokes him a few times; until he awakens with a silent yawn.

"Sleep good, boy?" She asks, with the softness that comes from sleep. He gives her an affirmative lick straight up the center of her face.

Scrunching her lips and pulling her eyes closed tight, she rolls him off, then pushes herself up until she's leaning on her elbows. Rolling her neck, she can feel the faint traces of a headache, undoubtedly from the hectic dream. Yet, with all its commotion, she'd only gotten two things from it.

_The first: Love is not romantic. It's tough and beautiful; it's chaotic and confusing; it's pointless and all the sense in the world; but it's not romantic._ Every one of those easy and gushy romance movies she'd been stuck watching when nothing else was on TV was a lie.  _Love is anything but easy._

_The second: No matter how difficult it could be, it was also worth fighting for._ And those two things are what get her thinking.

_Should I share this? Do I tell?_  The questions leave a buzz like a million bees in her head. She could see only two endings if she did, and only one was good. However, the possibilities were endless if she didn't, and not a single one panned out in her favor.  _I'll take one fifty-fifty over an infinity of failure any day,_ she states to herself, but- perhaps- a little too much confidence a little too soon.

"Honey, I'm  _home_." Root's joking tone fills every corner of the station, echoing off of every solid wall, magnifying the sound in Shaw's ears.

"If you're working the job you do, and your house is a remodeled subway terminal, you might want to rethink your occupation," Shaw replies, standing up. Her head spins as she straightens too quickly, but part of her can't shake the idea that the feeling is only Root. She sees Root smile, and the station becomes three shades brighter. "What is it this week anyway?" Shaw asks.

Unable to keep her eyes from scanning, she takes in Root's attire- a wardrobe far different than the leather jacket and black jeans she'd been in earlier. No, now she wears a dress suit; gray blazer matching a short pencil skirt, and a white, ruffled blouse just beneath. Her usually free hair is pulled into a tight bun, and she has a set of fake glasses over her eyes.

"Lawyer," Root answers, tossing a computer bag onto the desk before walking Shaw's way. Shaw tries to meet her halfway, but finds her legs useless. Still, she allows the most microscopic of smirks to pull at her mouth for a brief second.

"Never liked lawyers," Shaw replies coolly, and Root gives her a pout.

"That's a shame," Root says dolefully, and her glasses slip slightly down her nose. Done pretending, Root lets the easygoing smile return to her face as she delicately plucks the glasses from the edge of her nose, twirling them about in her fingers.

She's practically toe to toe with Shaw now, and Shaw has that same feeling as before. Unable to breathe, thoughts clouded; heart jumping ungracefully over a drum set. She tries to find a biting come back, but feels herself at a loss for words. Luckily, however, Root starts up on another tangent before Shaw even has the need to.

"Sleeping on the job?" Root asks, looking Shaw over with searching eyes. They stop on Shaw's hair, and a humorous smile is poorly suppressed behind her lips. Root brings a hand to Shaw's hair, fingers running along her head before they brush straight down a few times over. Shaw can feel herself riled at the touch. Normally a gesture that would land anyone else in the ER, Shaw can do nothing to bat Root away. Instead, she stands like a statue, allowing Root to play with her hair.

Root must see this as well, for her eyes instantly fill with doting and excitement, and a soft blush dusts her cheeks as she drops her hand, letting it fall back to her side.

"I love your bed head," Root tells her with affectionate humor, although she is unable to hide the slightest hints of embarrassment from her voice.

On any other day, Shaw would have been set off at that comment.  _'How do you know I wasn’t attacked?'_  Shaw would demand defensively, or even an angered ' _I'll make sure to never let it happen again, then_.' She has half a mind to as well, but- looking about to hopefully find it easier to breathe- Shaw's eyes land on Bear. He sits behind Root and off to the side, watching Shaw with intent eyes- waiting. She juts out her jaw a moment, then returns her gaze to Root, suddenly filled with butterflies. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, and she struggles to open her sealed lips.

"Yeah, well..." Shaw's eyes flicker back to Bear, and he sits up a little straighter, feeling the tension rising in the room. His eyes seem to tell her 'Go ahead.'  _Now I know I'm nuts_ , Shaw grumbles to herself, stalling.  _Having emotions and being a part time dog whisperer? Sure._

Root's eyes are expectant, waiting, and Shaw knows with a certain finality that she can't push this off. Not now, and probably not ever. "... I love... you."

At once, Root's jaw goes slack. It takes her eyes a moment to catch up, but once they do, all the play is gone for them. They are left wide and ineffably shocked. Root's mouth opens and closes weakly, as if she's trying to form words, but not a single thing comes out. A panic creeps its way up Shaw's spine, and she back pedals.

"I mean, kind of."

The glasses drop from Root's hand, landing with a deafening clatter on the floor.

"I think." At this point, Root gives a few slow, astonished blinks, trying to pull herself out of this stupor. Finally, her mouth closes, and she merely stands, emotionless, before Shaw.

_I'm thinking that an infinity of failure was looking a little better than this_ , Shaw says to herself dreadfully.

"You... what..." Root's voice is distant, like she can only perceive the validity of the words in a different world. Like they can't make sense here, and Shaw's anxiety only mounts. Still, she forces on a casual front, going so far as to slouch back in a comfortable stance.

"Well, I uh, I had a talk with the dog today," Shaw says, as if it is the most normal thing in the world. "He told me to tell you that."

From a little ways off, Bear gives an indignant puff through his nostrils, and Shaw shoots him a sharp glare. When she looks back to Root, she finds a new sight taking hold in front of her. Root's eyes are closed, and she's biting her lip.

"Uh, Root?" Shaw asks, unease sliding into her voice. "You okay?" She nods.

"Yeah, I just gotta-... wake up. Then everything will make sense."

" _Excuse_  me?" Shaw asks, baffled and indignant. An angered purse comes to her lips. "You're not  _asleep_."

Root ignores her, closing her eyes tighter in concentration. Annoyed beyond belief, Shaw reaches forward, flicking her hard on the neck. Root's eyes shoot open as a hand comes to the spot. When she realizes she is still in the same spot, with Shaw still across from her and hands on her hips, her eyes widen once more.

Then, a smile stretches across Root's face.


End file.
